How do you write about your experience as a reader with authenticity, when one's experience as a reader is intensely personal?

I spend the large majority of my not-work, not-sleep time either reading or writing about reading (or thinking about reading or thinking about writing about reading). This question is personal to me, especially as one prone to question my right to review books and my place in this bookish community. When I talk about books, I am very conscious of the fact that reading is inherently personal; it is by looking at that personal experience in the context of the larger world--of readers, of writers, of stories--that my experience with a book feels valid and worth sharing.

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Take, for example, Stephin Merritt's controversial judgement in the zombie round of this year's Tournament of Books. Merritt read An Untamed State and All the Light We Cannot See, and objected to both novels as contenders for any sort of prize in vitriolic, insulting ways. I won't re-hash the entirety of his reaction (that's been done), but I'd argue that his piece was intensely personal, revealing more about him as a reader and as a public figure than the books themselves. In this instance, Merritt could not go beyond himself--his dislike of uncomfortable subjects, his preference for novels that stay away from violence and brutality--to see that these novels were both qualified, in many ways, to be acknowledged as excellent pieces of writing.

That is not to say that Merritt had to love both books, or even like them. Some people read to see the world they wish existed, others to see the world as it is or as they never knew it could be. It seems Merritt falls into the first camp; he states a strong preference for reading books that do not mention rape or gang rape in any way. In writing about his experience with both of these novels, he failed to account for those other groups of readers, though: those who want to open their eyes to horrors they know or do not know exist, and face those subjects head-on. His response felt inauthentic, like a ploy for attention or clicks or controversy or maybe honest conversation. It felt like a slapdash attempt at snark and witticisms that fell flat among an audience that saw both books in the context of that larger group of readers, and in a world where these brutal things are actually, unfortunately, a reality.

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Luckily for the Tournament of Books, the Morning News commentary on Merritt's reaction gave us a more nuanced, reasonable analysis of both books, lacking precisely the context they criticize Merritt for failing to provide:

What I see lacking here is an “empathy of intention,” where we grant the best possible motives to the writer and the story being discussed, where we seek to understand the author’s intentions, and offer criticism in that vein. This doesn’t mean we automatically approve of all choices, but neither do we reflexively disapprove of choices because we can’t imagine taking them. -John Warner

But how do we avoid falling into that same trap? What makes our opinions about books worth sharing? When we write about books--or talk about them, or caution our friends against them, or push them into the hands of our families--we will always be reflecting on our individual experience as a reader. There's no way around that, and there's nothing wrong with that. But without the context of my personality, my experiences, my preferences--especially as they relate to the much broader, much more diverse, and much more varied set of personalities, preferences, and experiences in the world--my, or any, opinion about a book or a story or a work of art is nothing more than that: just an opinion.

6 comments

I'm always very aware that when I write a review it is only my opinion. My thoughts and feelings about books come from my experiences, likes and dislikes. I try to point this out, and that's why I include a Who Would Like This Book section. Not all books are for all people, but that does not make them inherently bad. I also like to think I can see past a book's faults to appreciate some aspect of it. Hausfrau is a case in point. I think Essbaum is a great writer, but i didn't actually like Hausfrau.

Such a great post. I think so much about which books you like/don't like is about personal taste and everyone's is different. But, that's one of the great things about writing about books...there is lots of room for debate because there will always be differing opinions and room for lots of different book "reviewers" out there since there are lots of different "taste niches" to be filled. If we were all the same or agreed on the "best book(s)", things would be so boring!

Yeah, I mean, I think that the flaw in Merritt's review is what Warner identifies -- a failure to give the author the benefit of the doubt. I worry about this so much when I write negative reviews, which is why I rarely do it, except when I have a true ideological problem with what the author wrote. And a diversity of opinion is awesome! One of many reasons I cherish book bloggers so much!

I'm the same with negative reviews. I rarely write them, and when I do, it's because I have serious issue with something that goes beyond "I didn't like it." I do love seeing varying opinions of books, though, which sometimes makes me question my own didn't-love-it-don't-write-about-it habits.

Agreed! I love that everyone comes at a story from a different place; the discussions on Socratic Salon (as in book clubs) are so much evidence of that. Even when everyone loves a book, it's often for different reasons.

Yes, the "Who Would Like" gets at that same question. Same as "if you liked X, you might like Y" type reviews or review sections--it just gives even more context to an opinion.

And I'm always intrigued by books that I appreciate but don't like. That's how I feel about everything I've read of Jane Austen (which is P&P multiple times, and Emma once). I haven't read Hausfrau yet but it is on my shelf (with SO MANY OTHERS).